The Science of Courtship
by lilyleia78
Summary: McShep. When DADT is repealed Rodney and John get their wires crossed as to what the other wants from their first date.


**The Science of Courtship**

John was grinning like a lunatic as he left Elizabeth's office, and he could practically feel the new spring in his step as he made his way to the nearest transporter. He briefly considered reining himself when he caught the wary expression on the face of an unfamiliar scientist waiting for the transport but decided against it. He didn't want to hide his feelings, not today, not when he was finally free to express _all_ of his feelings.

Still, it wasn't until Zelenka fell into step with him and began singing 'Oh What a Beautiful Morning' in Czech that John realized he'd actually been humming the upbeat tune to himself as he walked. Good news or not, that could seriously damage his reputation; he stopped humming and let Zelenka finish the song alone.

"You seem very cheerful this morning, Colonel. The databurst contained good news from home?" the wild-haired scientist asked him.

John winked at him and smiled impossibly wider at the amused look on Radek's face. John said, "You could say that. But nothing that affects you." He paused, smirking playfully. "Unless you've been secretly lusting after one of my men." To John's surprise, the tips of Zelenka's ears turned pink and he looked away from John's curious gaze.

John's grin, which had fallen away in surprise, returned with a vengeance; this day was getting better and better. "Who is he?" he asked.

Zelenka glared at him over the tops of his glasses. If John hadn't been made glare-resistant by years as Rodney's friend and teammate the expression might have been deadly. It was quite impressive nonetheless. "Finally going to make a move on Rodney, Colonel?" Zelenka retaliated.

John tried to scowl at him in return, but he was pretty sure the smile he couldn't seem to lose ruined the affect.

Zelenka's face softened as they approached the entrance to the mess hall. "Good luck," he said.

John winked at him again and said, "You too." Radek blushed again and took off toward the chow line at a brisk pace. John made a mental note to put a bug in Rodney's ear about Radek's behavior, see if Rodney's unique blend of bullying and stealth could uncover the identity of Radek's crush.

Speaking of everyone's favorite not-so-theoretical astrophysicist, John surveyed the room, looking for his team. They didn't eat together everyday but often enough that he could usually count on finding at least one of them sitting at their usual table. Today he was in luck: all three members of SGA-1 were huddled together, Teyla and Ronon listening with varying levels of patience as Rodney ranted about something John was too far away to make out.

Bypassing the chow line, John headed straight for his team. Whatever had been bothering Rodney must have been only a minor annoyance, because he was quiet by the time John crossed the room, totally immersed in enjoying his mashed tubers.

John pulled a chair out and positioned it at the head of the table, angling it to afford Rodney the best view of the artfully sprawled pose he struck after he lowered himself into the seat.

Rodney didn't even look up, and John allowed himself a small internal pout. Just because he made it look casual didn't mean it was easy to sprawl in the tiny cafeteria chairs. Although, Ronon did a pretty good job too, he had to admit.

Teyla, of course, was the first to notice John's unusually chipper mood. "You seem well this morning, John."

Rodney looked up from his meal at this declaration to study John's expression suspiciously.

"A little too well, in fact. What's up with you?" Rodney demanded. John grinned wider just to watch Rodney's eyes narrow. "Stop it with the dopey grin, you're scaring Ronon."

Ronon grunted around his Pegasus meatloaf in response.

Rodney continued to scrutinize John's expression; John kept smiling enigmatically until a look of disappointment crossed Rodney's face. "Zelenka didn't tell you about those plans we found, did he? Because we agreed not to get your hopes up until I could build a working model," Rodney complained, pushing his nearly empty tray away in disgust. "Besides, he promised I could tell you."

"Plans for what?"

"What?"

"Zelenka didn't say anything to me," John promised solemnly. Getting Rodney riled up was always fun, but he wanted to get back on topic.

"He didn't?"

"Not a word."

"Oh, okay then," Rodney seemed satisfied as he reached for his jello cup.

Teyla tried to get the conversation back on track. "It is good to see you happy John, perhaps you could tell us its cause so we may share in your joy. Is there reason to celebrate?" Trust Teyla to always have John's back. She was a good friend; John would have to name their first child after her – or, you know, a kitten, a kitten was much more likely.

"You could say that," John drawled. "It seems the United States legislature has finally seen fit to remove Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

Teyla smiled at the happy expression that he didn't try to suppress. "That is the restriction against soldiers being involved with members of the same gender?"

"That's the one," John agreed. He pretended not to notice when Teyla's expression turned a little too knowing for comfort.

"Huh," Rodney said through a mouthful of jello. "Congratulations on finally electing someone who's not a moron."

"Thanks, Rodney. You know we aspire to the same glory as Canada."

Rodney snorted. "Your country might make it into the 21st century yet."

Rodney turned his attention back to his food, the conversation clearly over from his perspective, but John continued to stare at him hopefully.

With just the barest hint of exasperation in her expression, if not her voice, Teyla nudged the man sitting next to her. "Rodney is there nothing else you'd like to say to Colonel Sheppard?"

Rodney looked at her with a frown and then turned toward John, clearly surprised to find the man still smiling at him like a loon. "What? Do you want an award? A ceremony welcoming you into the civilized population?"

John tilted his head to the side, pretending to consider the matter. "Hmm," he intoned noncommittally. "Actually, that might not be a bad idea."

Rodney blinked at him once in surprise. "You want a ceremony?"

"Of course not," John said exasperatedly. "But we _should_ address the situation somehow. Nip any problems in the bud before they get started."

Rodney was frowning at his empty jello container. "I'll talk to my department heads, make sure they get the message out that intolerance won't be…well, tolerated."

"That's great, buddy," John agreed, thinking fast to find the right words. "But, uh, I was thinking a…uh…_demonstration_ of some kind might be in order. You know, get the ball rolling, leadership setting an example, that sort of thing."

Rodney turned in his chair to face John more fully, wariness evident in his face. John was dimly aware of Teyla dragging Ronon away with some firm words about bantos training. "What kind of demonstration did you have in mind?" Rodney asked, corner of his mouth turning down as he frowned.

John valiantly resisted the urge to out himself by leaning over and tracing the appealing curve of lip with his tongue. He recognized puzzle-solving mode when he saw it and knew Rodney was seconds away from getting it. Hope made his tone light when he said, "You know, the usual date fare - dinner, soft music with a beat you can dance to, a movie just boring enough to ignore for long periods of time, dim lighting."

Rodney glanced briefly around the room before looking back at John. John looked around as well, amused by Rodney's slightly confused expression. He smiled when he spotted some of his men wearing the same happily surprised look he knew he'd sported upon first hearing the news, and actually waved to Lorne who was two tables over, talking with a blushing Dr. Parrish.

"Are you saying you want _me_ to take part in this demonstration with you?" Rodney's face was contorted with doubt when John turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

John felt his heart rate jump at the question; this was it, last chance to run. He forced himself to look Rodney in the eye when he answered. "I wouldn't do it with anyone else. You're my best friend," he said with more honesty than he'd allowed himself in a long time.

Rodney's eyes darted around the room again, landing briefly on Lorne, who was now alone and staring at the exit beyond John and Rodney's table. John wondered what Parrish had said to leave the Major looking so dazed. Rodney sighed heavily, and John tensed at the sight of Rodney's forced, thin-lipped smile. But his worry lifted when Rodney answered, "Of course. I'm clearly the expert on everything, even perfect dates."

"I certainly hope so; I'm gonna be a little clueless. So, 2000 tonight outside the mess?" John asked brightly,

"All right, Colonel." John held his breath until Rodney said those magical three little words. "It's a date."

_Finally! _John thought to himself as he leaned back in satisfaction. Rodney could be hard on the ego.

---

John's cocky triumph lasted until exactly 1800 hours when he started to consider getting ready for his date. His date. With Rodney. What the hell had he been thinking? He had no idea how to date a _woman_, let alone another man.

_Alright, Sheppard, focus. What's your objective?_ His palms began to sweat as he tore through the contents of his closet and dresser. Black shirts in endless multitudes were considered and discarded in a blind rush as John searched for something that might catch Rodney's interest. _Don't I have some green? Does green bring out my eyes like blue does for Rodney?_

The ridiculousness of the thought broke the spell of panic that had been over him, and John puffed out a breath of laughter before pulling on the first black shirt he laid hands on. And if he spent a few minutes longer than was completely necessary getting his hair into just the right degree of tousled, well no one had to know that but him and his mirror.

Rodney was already waiting outside the mess hall when he arrived, and John was happy to note that the other man looked as nervous as he felt. Rodney was bouncing on his toes, checking his watch briefly before surreptitiously wiping his hands on the thighs of his pants. John allowed himself a second to admire both thighs and pants before making his presence known.

"Rodney," John called, advancing until he was standing directly in front of the other man. "You look nervous." Rodney's eyes got an indignant gleam. He opened his mouth, sputtering. And then John stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in Rodney's ear. "Relax, I asked you, remember? I want to be here. Just you and me, buddy."

When John pulled back he caught something on Rodney's face that made him uneasy. His friend looked…off kilter somehow, and guilt was heavy in his eyes. But it was swept aside before John could comment, and then Lorne approached from behind him.

"Doctor. Colonel," Lorne greeted. John didn't answer. Lorne was wearing a suit – no, not a suit – a tux. And if John hadn't been nursing this crush on Rodney for longer than was healthy, he might have had his head turned.

"Lorne? What…" John trailed off as Lorne winked at Rodney. John pouted to himself - _That's not cool. You don't flirt with the boss's date right in front of him! - _and almost missed Lorne's next words. "Hey, doc, everything's all set up for you."

"Thank you, Major," Rodney said, "Let's get this show started."

Something in Rodney's voice – resignation? – set John on edge, but Rodney was all cool confidence as he put a hand on the small of John's back and led him into the mess hall. Or at least John was pretty sure it _used_ to be the mess hall. Now it had been transformed into something approximating an old fashioned Italian restaurant, albeit one with a spotlight on one of the tables. John's eyes leapt with horror from the red checkered tablecloth to the candle in a wine bottle to the small army of witnesses snickering at nearby tables before settling on Rodney who was watching his reactions closely.

The smug expression on Rodney's face was probably fooling the rest of the room, but John prided himself on his ability to see past Rodney's bullshit, and he noted the tense, unhappy set of Rodney's shoulders and the way his hands clutched at his biceps where they were crossed over his chest: John's anger deflated.

Rodney escorted him to the spotlit table and politely held out his chair for him. Before going around to the table to his own seat, Rodney whispered, "I didn't... I thought… Is this okay, Colonel?" Any lingering hurt John might have felt dissipated at the misery in Rodney's voice.

John turned to answer, but the reply stuck in his throat when the action placed his lips inches from Rodney's own. For a moment neither man moved. John felt himself leaning closer, eyes drifting closed, the gentle wash of Rodney's breath brushing his lips…

Suddenly the strains of _Bella Notte_ filled the air, and Rodney straightened up quickly. John shook his head slightly to clear it and recalled the question. "Sure, Rodney, it's great. Not too bad for a fake date."

Because that's obviously what this was - a demonstration for others to observe and laugh at. "I wish my real dates were half as nice." And John forced himself to smile despite the churning in his stomach. "But the people I date usually call me John."

It was almost worth it to see the genuine delight on Rodney's face. Almost.

Rodney was the perfect date. He made eye contact, asked leading questions about John without touching on anything too personal, avoided talking about himself, and generally acted nothing like the Rodney John knew and lov…knew. It was miles away from what John would have imagined, if he'd allowed himself to imagine it at all. But, then, maybe that made it easier.

If this had been a real date John would have used the cover of the table to squeeze Rodney's knee; he would have teased and prodded and annoyed until Rodney dropped the façade. But this was for show, so John let Rodney play the role he'd laid out for himself.

When their 'waitress', a giggling Miko, whisked away the remains of their MRE spaghetti, Rodney stood up and formally offered his hand to John. Hesitating only briefly, John allowed himself to be pulled up.

"What's next?" he asked.

"Dancing, of course," Rodney declared grandly, pulling John into the softly lit portion of the large room. John could now see that it had been cleared of all tables.

"No movie?" John asked teasingly.

Rodney waved that away. "Everyone knows movies make a terrible first date. You can't talk and get to know each other."

"We already know each other," John pointed out helpfully.

Rodney looked abruptly flustered. "Did you want a movie? I thought, for observational purposes…"

John put up a placating hand. "This is fine, Rodney. Perfect, even"

"Of course it is," Rodney blustered as the music started up. "Hope you don't mind me leading," Rodney warned. "I don't think I could do this backward."

"Why not?" John shrugged, wrapping his left arm around Rodney's waist and using it to pull the other man tight against him. Rodney mirrored him with his right arm around John's waist and then clasped their free hands, pulling them tight against his shoulder.

They swayed more than danced; Rodney was tense; obviously trying to maintain a little distance, but John was having none of that. If this was the only time he ever got to hold Rodney, then damn it he was going to hold him for all he was worth.

John closed his eyes and allowed himself to pretend; to pretend that they were alone and dancing just for the excuse to be in each others' arms and not for the benefit of some elaborate joke Rodney was perpetrating. Gradually he felt Rodney relax and melt into him. John sighed and pressed closer.

When the music faded John kept swaying, lost in the fantasy, easy to maintain since Rodney didn't let go either. Seconds, minutes, a lifetime later, Rodney pulled back at last, and John tightened his hand in the fabric stretched across Rodney's shoulders, not opening his eyes until he heard Rodney whisper his name – _John_, not Sheppard or Colonel - and John had to look, to try to make sense of the anguish he heard in the way his name fell from Rodney's lips. The look on Rodney's face was so desperate that John didn't bother to put his defensive mask back up. He left it all on his face, his yearning and hope visible to the other man. Rodney abruptly gripped him tighter, looking surprised, looking troubled, and John schooled his expression just as one of the scientists let out an ear-splitting wolf-whistle.

"Okay, okay, you perverts," Rodney grumbled, stepping away from John and making shooing gestures at the crowd. "That's it, show's over. End of date night." And then he refocused on John, expression thoughtful.

"Aren't you supposed to walk me to my door?" John teased, voice deliberately light in the hopes of deflecting Rodney from whatever mystery he'd found in John's eyes. John was afraid that he'd revealed too much, that he had overstepped whatever line Rodney had drawn for them, but he wasn't anxious for his first - and possibly only - date with Rodney to be over.

Rodney blinked once, slowly and deliberately as if dragging himself from his thoughts took effort and smiled crookedly for their audience. "Of course," he said. Then, in a stage whisper to the crowd, "If I get invited up for coffee, I know I'm in." The scientists around them laughed; the Marines let out more wolf-whistles.

John waggled his eyebrows in their general direction. "Confident, isn't he? I like that in a man."

Rodney put a hand on the small of John's back and nudged him toward the door. "Great! We'll be married before the year's out." Laughter followed them into the hall, but it was eerily silent as they made their way toward the living quarters. For his part, John was torn between despair of Rodney ever getting a clue and worry that he'd gone too far, been too obvious and ruined their friendship.

Then a horrible thought struck him: maybe Rodney had understood his intentions all along, and this was his answer. Maybe, in an uncharacteristic display of sensitivity, Rodney was trying to give him an easy out. He almost took it. He almost said something, anything to let Rodney know what a great joke the whole night had been, but he couldn't bring himself to belittle the night even further.

When they arrived at his door it was like a switch had flipped in Rodney, and all the tension of the last few minutes was abruptly gone. "Well," Rodney said, bouncing up on the balls of his feet. "I think we put on a good show; that should help alleviate any problems that might arise when people start coming out for real."

"Yeah," John said quietly, "for real." He hoped Rodney couldn't hear the pathetic wistfulness in his tone.

"Goodnight, Colonel - John. Goodnight, John," Rodney said as he started to turn away. Faced with yet another pivotal moment, John grabbed Rodney's arm to prevent him from leaving. Rodney turned back, question clear in his eyes.

"I think you're forgetting the most important part of a first date, McKay," John informed him, voice gone husky with nerves and anticipation.

"Oh?" Rodney must have heard something, read something in John's face, because Rodney's voice was a high and strained squeak.

"The goodnight kiss."

Rodney gaped at him, speechless for a full three seconds before he recovered his voice. "I wouldn't want to assume you're that kind of girl."

John rolled his eyes and released Rodney's arm before scowling. "I appreciate your concern for my virtue, Rodney, but I'm exactly that kind of _guy_."

"Of course you are." Rodney sounded far too disgruntled for a man about to be kissed.

"Hey, this is our first date," John explained, "I want the full experience."

"I live to serve," Rodney said mockingly, leaning in for a quick, dry press of lips. It wasn't at all what John wanted, and he couldn't contain a small sound of disappointment when Rodney pulled away and immediately headed down the hall toward his own room. "Goodnight, John," he called over his shoulder, rounding the corner and leaving John alone with a cold hollowness in his chest.

He entered his quarters and stripped to his boxers and t-shirt, turning down the bed and brushing his teeth on autopilot. He was deciding between a run to clear his head and just falling into bed to jerk off and fall asleep when his door chimed. He turned toward it just as it opened without an invitation.

Rodney bustled into his room, striding forward like a man on a mission. He didn't stop until his body was pressed right up against John's. Rodney took John's face into his hands with a tenderness that made John's chest ache in an entirely new way and pulled John's head forward until his lips bumped Rodney's.

For an endless moment, the kiss hovered on strangeness. John's eyes were still open and all he could see was the blurred blue of Rodney staring back at him. Then Rodney tilted his head and opened his mouth on a sigh, and they were _kissing_. Really kissing, the way he'd always imagined their first kiss should be – gentle and soft, tender but with the promise of passion.

Rodney pulled away with a promising swipe of his tongue against John's lower lip and held John's gaze for a few seconds before putting some distance between their bodies and looking away.

"It occurred to me that you didn't really get the full experience earlier, because that was nothing like dating me would really be like. Not that I've had too many opportunities since relocating to another galaxy, but I think we both know it wasn't me tonight. In the cafeteria this morning I saw you looking at Lorne with that botanist – Parrish? - and I thought…" Rodney paused to breathe. He glanced in John's direction as if waiting for something, but since John had no idea where this was going, he stayed quiet. "I thought it was for them. That you were joking, that _we_ were joking for them. And I thought maybe you wanted a Big Gay Date…" John could hear the capitalization "…to make things easier for them. But then there was the look outside the mess. And the…" Rodney gestured back and forth between them "…thing at dinner. And after the dancing I could have sworn you were going to kiss me. Not that peck in the hall, a real kiss."

Rodney stopped talking and met John's eyes for the first time since their kiss, volume dropping to almost a whisper. "Were you going to kiss me?" Rodney asked, looking lost and anxious.

John heart was thudding so loudly in his chest that he was surprised Rodney couldn't hear it and divine his answer from that. "Yes," he answered.

"Oh." Rodney looked surprised, despite his earlier surmising. "Why?"

And he looked so truly bewildered that John founded himself answering honestly. "Because I wasn't joking and I couldn't care less about getting Lorne laid. He's a good second and all, but I'm more concerned with my own lack of sex life." John let his exasperation show in his voice.

Rodney's lips twitched upward at that. "So," Rodney's uncertainty was fading, replaced with wonder. "You really wanted all that - dinner and dancing and a movie boring enough to ignore for long periods of time – with me?"

John nodded.

"We could, um, we could still do that," Rodney offered.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"Yeah."

They stood grinning stupidly at each other for a few moments until John smiled wickedly and cocked his head to indicate the room they stood in and said, "Wanna come up for coffee?"

Rodney rolled his eyes, but he didn't move any closer and his hands kept fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

John sighed mentally; maybe this was too much too soon. It looked like his dreams of being pinned by broad shoulders would have to remain in his fantasy life for awhile longer. "I don't actually have any coffee in the room," he said mildly, silently begging Rodney not to take the out he was offering. "Some of us can function without it."

Rodney looked up with horror, blue eyes goggling at him, but some the nervousness had dissipated from his stance.

John hoped that was a good sign, but he made himself continue. "We could go get some, if you didn't want…" he trailed off weakly.

But his own uncertainty seemed to have helped Rodney regain the cockiness he usually showed to the world, and when he spoke Rodney's words were low and fierce with desire. "Oh, I want."

Rodney took a long step back and looked at John, looked at every part of him with the awed gaze of someone beholding something sacred and precious. John felt himself flush, Rodney's gaze searing him wherever it touched him. Rodney began to strip slowly but not, John realized, because he wanted to tease, but because his attention was still focused on John, studying him like he was a particularly complex and exciting problem.

John felt naked under the gaze; he shivered but did nothing to break the mood. Instead he focused on the slow reveal of Rodney's skin, recalling everything he'd ever wanted to do to those miles of pale flesh and inventing a few more as new mysteries of Rodney's body were revealed.

His gaze landed at last on Rodney's half erect cock, his balls a heavy shadow behind and beneath it. John watched with hungry fascination as the cock swelled and filled under the weight of his stare, felt his own cock respond to the sight.

John wondered how Rodney would taste in his mouth, could already feel the pleasant ache of his jaw and the stretch of his lips. His mouth was watering in anticipation, and he swallowed hard to prevent himself from actually drooling.

There was a broken moan from Rodney, and suddenly John was on his back, thankfully on the bed, and he had no idea where his shirt had gone but it hardly mattered when Rodney's mouth found his. Rodney tasted of mint, and John laced his fingers around the back of Rodney's head to pull him closer, to search for the bitter taste of coffee he'd always imagined would cling to Rodney's mouth. Rodney obliged, opening for John's tongue and removing the rest of John's clothing between kisses, revealing his bare flesh to Rodney's questing fingers.

"What do you want?" Rodney asked as he pulled away, right hand still trailing lightly down John's ribcage.

John's body thrummed with need, and he could hear the whine in his voice as he pleaded. "Just touch me Rodney, anything, anywhere, just need you."

Rodney made a desperate sound and took him at his word. John wanted to remember this always, the sweet slow caress of Rodney's broad fingers sweeping lightly over his body, the light touch a marked contrast to the desperation of their kisses.

He could feel Rodney trying to hold back, to slow things down, but this time, their first time, emotions were too high and it was only moments before Rodney's mouth followed the swift path of his hands down to John's anxious cock. Rodney licked at it gently, not tentative, but curious, his tongue mapping the contours of John's cock with a devotion usually reserved for ZPMs and really good coffee.

Then Rodney looked up through the long sweep of his eyelashes as he engulfed John, and it was Rodney's turn to lay his emotions bare. John felt adored, worshiped, treasured, loved. Loved. He shuddered at the revelation, only half hoped for before now, despite their non-conversation from earlier. Rodney pulled off, hand replacing mouth, no longer exploring but maintaining a low level arousal while he checked on John. "You okay?"

Okay? He was shattered, torn open and shaking with the intensity of it, but Rodney was here; Rodney would pull him back, put him together better than he was before, that was who Rodney was, what he did, so yes, John was more than okay. "Almost perfect," he said huskily.

Rodney surveyed the landscape of John's body. John opened himself to the gaze, lying exposed and wanton in front of him. "No 'almost' from where I'm sitting."

John huffed disbelievingly and waved Rodney closer. Rodney reluctantly released his cock and crawled up John's body. John stayed open for him, cradling Rodney between his thighs, fighting the urge to come at the first touch of Rodney's thick cock against his spit slick one. "Like this."

"I wanted to taste you," Rodney protested, even as his hips rocked against John's own.

"You can. You will. But this time like this, please." All the words John couldn't say gathered in his throat. Words of love and connection and want and tenderness, and Rodney, the smartest man in two galaxies, in any galaxy, seemed to understand, relaxing into John's embrace and leaning down to return the sentiments in a kiss.

Rodney shifted, lifting his body to brace himself over John on stiff arms, back arched as he used his feet and knees for leverage to thrust against John. John arched up to thrust back and gain more friction, watching as Rodney went red-faced and quiet with concentration. It was almost surreal, and John suddenly wanted to touch Rodney the way Rodney had been touching him.

He reached up a hand to smooth over Rodney's arm, marveling at the feel of the muscle straining with the rhythm of his thrusts. John let his hand wander up the arm to one magnificent shoulder and then back down the broad chest, heading lower, anxious to have the heavy length of Rodney's cock in his hand.

One of Rodney's hands came down to stop John's explorations just as he passed Rodney's navel.

"Not this time," Rodney whispered, echoing John's words back at him, breathless with exertion as he gently lowered himself fully onto John so that they were touching from toes to chest. Rodney laced his fingers through John's and pulled John's arms over his head. He wasn't restraining, not really, but John felt his dick twitch where it was pressed up against Rodney's.

Rodney lifted an eyebrow, and smiled like he'd just made a major scientific breakthrough. "That's interesting. Like that, do you?"

"Shut up," John muttered darkly, but he thrust helplessly up against Rodney, seeking friction.

Rodney chuckled, and began to thrust in earnest, burying his head in the crook of John's neck.

John was swept away from reality then, lost in pleasure, sensations somehow both sharper and duller than normal in the haze of pre-orgasmic bliss. Sex and flying had always seemed equal in his eyes. But this _was_ flying. Rodney was pushing him higher and higher with each thrust, even as his weight anchored John. The reassuring bulk of Rodney was pressing him into the sheets, keeping him blissfully aware of where he was and, more importantly, with whom.

He was close, so close and under his own moans and pleas of Rodney's name he could hear Rodney talking, impossibly coherent as he made promises into John's neck.

"Next time, I'm gonna ride you sweet and slow until you're begging me to let you come, until you feel it every time you sit down to do paperwork, or attend some boring meeting, or have dinner with the alien floozy of the week. "

Somewhere, John found the breath to laugh. "Only you, Rodney." He only meant Rodney's obsession with his Kirk reputation, but Rodney whimpered and thrust harder, so maybe he misunderstood. Or maybe John was the one who'd misunderstood, because 'Only you' referred to a lot of things about him and Rodney.

"Next time," Rodney continued, more breathless and ragged than before, "I'm going to suck you until you come in my mouth and then kiss the taste back into your lips. Next time I'll mark every inch of your skin and make love to you until we've both forgotten everything but the feel of me deep inside of you and you in me." The fierceness of his tone was belied by the tender reverence with which he was watching John and the long slow slide of his cock next to John's. "Because you're mine."

John was so concentrated on Rodney's promises that his orgasm took him by surprise. His hands clutched desperately at Rodney's where they were still clasped above their heads, and he came with Rodney's name on his lips.

Rodney continued thrusting lightly, gentling John down with soft kisses and nonsense words. When John felt like he had control of his body again, he kissed back, wet and lazy with satisfaction. "You could do that this time," he offered. "Fuck me, Rodney."

Rodney whined, rutting desperately against John, but shook his head. "Not gonna last. Next time."

"Next time," John promised as Rodney came with a long moan, adding his own contribution to the sticky mess on John's belly. John freed his hands and lowered them to hold Rodney close as he shuddered through his orgasm, wordless gasping moans gradually fading to more whispered nonsense into John's neck. When the last of the aftershocks seemed to have passed, Rodney lowered his own arms and slid them under John's shoulders, kissing him tenderly before making a half hearted attempt to roll away. John held him tighter. "Let me bask," he said.

Rodney huffed in a manner that John chose to interpret as consent, although it was probably meant to convey that Rodney thought he was being an idiot. Either way, Rodney went limp and quiet. John closed his eyes to concentrate on the feel of Rodney in his arms, and ignored the growing discomfort of having a grown man on top of him.

After a few minutes John gave up and said, "Now you're getting heavy." Kissing Rodney as he rolled him to take away the sting of the words, John kept rolling until his feet hit the floor. On unsteady legs (and he could feel the smug look Rodney was giving him for _that_) he made his way to the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth.

He cleaned Rodney tenderly and with a thoroughness that might have inspired another round if they'd been twenty years younger, and then quickly wiped up the mess on his belly before tossing the cloth in the general vicinity of the bathroom.

Rodney grudgingly shifted over with some not-so-gentle prodding, and John crawled into the narrow bed, slinging an arm across Rodney's chest, perhaps a little possessively, but John didn't care.

"So," he drawled as Rodney's eyes drifted shut, "'married before the year's out?'"

Rodney groaned. "No talking after sex."

John pressed his face into Rodney's neck to hide his grin. Rodney turned slightly, lips seeking, and John lifted up to meet him in a kiss.

Catching John's eye, Rodney spoke again. "Despite my brilliant performance earlier, I'm really bad at this."

John stroked his hand once down the length of Rodney's torso, letting his eyes follow the same path before lifting an eyebrow at Rodney. "I don't know," he said with a smirk, "you seemed pretty good to me."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I meant the other stuff…feelings and relationships and…"

"Stuff," John finished for him. He leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet. "I don't know," he repeated quietly, "you seemed pretty good to me."

Rodney turned pink, and pulled John tighter against him. "That just proves you're worse at this than me."

"A match made in heaven then," John teased.

Rodney huffed into John's hair. "Can this conversation be postponed until at least breakfast?"

"Sure, buddy," John agreed, that goofy smile from the morning back on his face. "It's a date."


End file.
